


be a man about it

by limned



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, Explicit Language, F/M, Misogyny, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-10 11:17:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11125965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/limned/pseuds/limned
Summary: Steve knows damn well that Natasha can handle herself, that she’s handled far worse than moderate creepiness from a mid-level police supervisor, but it still makes him angry.





	be a man about it

It takes less than half an hour for Steve to decide that he really dislikes the lead ATF agent.

This Riehl guy is kind of amazing, how he skates right along the edge of outright inappropriate behavior toward Natasha. He does enough to make Steve want to punch him — standing a little too close to her, turning to exclude other people from conversation, looking down at her body in repeated quick glances — but it’s all barely on the side of acceptable. Steve knows damn well that Natasha can handle herself, that she’s handled far worse than moderate creepiness from a mid-level police supervisor, but it still makes him angry.

She stays professional and composed through the mission wrap-up, but she doesn’t do it for one second longer than necessary. The details are locked down for transporting the seized explosives and the prisoners and she’s walking away toward the vans before the last sentence is finished. “We appreciate ATF’s cooperation,” she says over her shoulder.

Riehl looks startled for an instant, calling after her, “So for follow-up, we should—“

“Agent Sitwell will be in touch. Have a good evening, sir.”

The guy stands there looking downcast, for which Steve has zero sympathy because he’s also staring at her ass. He resists the urge to bodycheck Riehl into moving traffic and jogs to catch up with Natasha instead.

She glances over at him with a perfectly deadpan expression. “That was fun.”

“I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to put up with it,” Steve mutters. His neck feels hot with anger, and with something like embarrassment for his half of the species. “I figured you wouldn’t be happy if I decked him, though.”

“No, I wouldn’t, but I appreciate the thought.” Natasha shakes herself a little and gives him a brighter look, her shoulders relaxing. “Come on, let’s get cleaned up. Clint can buy the drinks to reward us for not punching the ATF.”

Steve laughs and relaxes slightly out of his own irritation as he climbs into the SHIELD van behind her. “I bet he’ll be thrilled about that. It’s not like he was parked on a windy roof for ten hours, or anything.”

.

Clint is already in the HQ locker room, sitting on a bench to unlace his boots. They exchange tired nods as Steve opens his locker and says, “Good job on the shot.”

“Thanks. Amazing how fast those groups tend to fall apart when their leader goes down.”

“Natasha says drinks are on you.”

“Oh really?” Clint tips him a good-natured but suspicious look. “I can’t wait to hear the rationale for that one.”

Steve offers an innocent shrug as he pulls clean clothes from his locker. “She can explain. Get moving, we don’t want to keep the lady waiting.”

“Yes sir,” Clint says dryly, and Steve does his best not to grin. He’s only known a few other people who could consistently make _Yes sir_ sound so close to _Fuck off_ , and it’s one of his favorite things about Clint, though naturally he’s never going to say that out loud.

He’s digging in his bag for soap when the locker room door opens, footsteps and voices rising around the corner.

“—see Romanoff in that goddamn suit? _Jesus_ , it’s like on-the-job torture.”

“Tell me about it. I’d love to get her out of that thing.”

“Yeah, and fuck her ‘til her nose bleeds,” a third voice adds.

The combined burst of laughter is like a dagger straight to the middle of Steve’s brain. He takes about one second to focus on controlling himself before he slams his locker so hard that the door caves in with a grating screech, briefly rocking the entire locker bank off the floor, and the laughter stops abruptly before he rounds the corner.

He only knows one by name, Pierson, but he knows they’re all junior agents, which goes partway to explain the idiocy of talking so crudely in an open locker room at SHIELD headquarters. They stare at him in frozen surprise, guilt and panic flashing across their faces, and two of them are already backing up as he advances and snarls, “Get the hell out of here _right now_ ,” with his hands curled into fists.

They scramble from the room so fast that they don’t even pick up their bags, and one guy trips over his own feet to collide with the wall. It would be funny if Steve wasn’t struggling with the desire to go after them and knock their heads together. He glares at the empty doorway, takes a few deep breaths, and forces his hands open before he turns and walks back around the lockers.

Clint hasn’t moved from the bench. He looks up, eyebrows raised, one side of his mouth twisted in a curious smile. “Hope you didn’t do that on my account.”

“No. I did it because they were disgusting,” Steve growls. He stalks back to his locker and yanks at the collapsed door until it pops out and the hinges break free. “They’re lucky I didn’t beat the daylights out of them. Especially today, with that ATF agent being a creep at her.”

Clint snorts. “The guy with no concept of personal space? Yeah, I saw that from up high. Thought he might get grabby and give her a reason to break something.”

“Doesn’t this stuff drive you crazy?”

Steve didn’t mean to ask that. Their relationship is not his business, and he can hear the confused anger in his voice like he’s somehow blaming Clint for his controlled reaction, which absolutely isn’t what he intended. He winces and makes an apologetic grimace. “Sorry, I didn’t mean… I just — don’t know how you deal with it.”

“Not my favorite thing,” Clint agrees, and Steve feels a rush of relief that he doesn’t seem insulted or annoyed by the subject. “It’s the world. It happens. She gets it a lot.”

“It shouldn’t happen _here_.” Steve scrubs a hand through his hair in frustration and looks away. “They’ve fought with her, they shouldn’t do that.”

“Nope. They shouldn’t.”

Clint sounds calm enough that it’s helping Steve to calm down too. And also to feel a little awkward, like maybe he didn’t have the right to get this upset when Natasha’s partner is coping so much better than he is. He makes himself sit down and start taking off his boots. “So how do you deal with it?” he asks, his face tipped deliberately to the floor.

“Well. If I ran around threatening everyone who looked at her or said something, I wouldn’t have time to do much else. And if they’re dumb enough to touch her, Natasha will take care of it way faster than I could.”

“Obviously,” Steve agrees.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Cap.”

“No, I meant—“ He looks up fast, alarmed, only to find Clint grinning at him, and laughs despite himself.

“I know what you meant. Believe me, I don’t have a problem with Nat being scarier than I am. If you hadn’t done that,“ Clint hooks a thumb toward the door, “then I would’ve made sure they saw me. Maybe not even bother to tell her who they were, or what they said, but they would’ve been terrified anyway. Her reputation is damn effective. I wouldn’t need to do anything else.”

“You must want to, sometimes.” Steve makes it only half a question, because he’s suddenly aware that this is the most personal conversation they’ve ever had, and he doesn’t want to presume that Clint is okay with continuing it.

“Sure,” Clint says easily. “Who wouldn’t? They’re assholes and they would deserve it. I don’t get as worked up as I used to, though.”

“Really?” Steve says, almost involuntarily, because he can’t imagine that. When he tries to think about how it would be, hearing someone talk about his girl that way, so brutal and crude and disrespectful, he feels like it would wind him up tighter every time. He knows he’s frowning a little and doesn’t mean to be doing that, but it seems so strange.

“Yeah, really.” Clint meets his eyes, open and clear, and pauses like he’s thinking before he continues. “People look at her, they say stuff. Most of them want her. But I’m the only one she ever takes home with her.”

Steve can’t do anything but blink at him for a couple of seconds, because the expression on Clint’s face is pretty remarkable. He thinks most guys would be bragging, or smug, or maybe deliberately warning off another man for acting so overprotective. Clint isn’t doing any of those things. He looks steady, matter-of-fact, calm all the way through, like he just told Steve the truest thing he knows. “Okay. Yeah. I get that.”

Clint nods once in response, smiling the slightest bit. “Good.” He turns crisply back to his locker and shucks off his vest, pulling his undershirt over his head, saying in the middle of it, “You’ll want to tell Nat about what you just did, though.”

Steve groans inwardly at the thought. “She going to be pissed at me?”

“Nah. She’ll think it was hilarious. Those guys ran out like their asses were on fire.”

“I probably shouldn’t do it again.”

“I don’t know, Human Resources might appreciate the assist.” Clint is grinning full-out again as he picks up a towel and heads for the shower. “ _Captain America Terrifies You About Sexual Harassment Policy._ Way more interesting than the orientation video.”

Steve has to sit there and bury his face in his hands for a minute, feeling better than he has all day, laughing until Clint calls across the room, “Come on, Rogers, move it. Like you said, we’re keeping the lady waiting.”

**Author's Note:**

> In heavily male-dominated environments it can often be difficult to find the line between standing up for what’s right and taking away someone’s agency to defend herself. I liked the idea of Clint and Steve working that out.


End file.
